


Someone To Love

by hummingrightalong



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Queen (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:51:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong
Summary: Crowley is trying to make Aziraphale jealous, meets his idol.





	Someone To Love

“You know, I had a sort of...dalliance, once,” Aziraphale begins, taking a sip of wine. Crowley pulls down his sunglasses, making sure the Angel has to look him square in the eyes for this confession. He’d known about it, of course. Been waiting years for him to say something. “With a young man during the French Revolution.” 

“You, really? Isn’t that against the rules?” The serpent teases for good measure. He hears himself hiss through the question, wondering if his companion notices. 

Aziraphale blushes slightly, rolls his eyes. “Not quite. At least- not specifically. Rather, I’m meant to blend in amongst humanity.”

“Hell of a way of blending in.” Another eye roll at the obvious joke. “I rather prefer more interesting company. Had quite a few ‘dalliances’ myself,” that’s a bit of an overstatement perhaps, but the Angel doesn’t have to know that and there’s no guilt at the lie. He’s a demon after all. “Had the best night of my life with him.” Crowley pulls a faded photo out of a jacket pocket. 

Well, it’d look that way to a human if they were to pass by this scene. The two of them had been sharing stories of their most tedious assignments over a good bottle of wine. Really, he kept the photo safely tucked away in his flat. It was a piece of history after all. 

“Oh?” Aziraphale prompts, carefully taking hold of the corner of the photo. “Oh,” he mutters with recognition. Usually he was somewhat out of the loop where celebrities were concerned. This was different, and Crowley never stopped talking about the music this man played with his band. “Was this some...temptation?” 

“I take a night off now and again for myself. Just like you, apparently.”

Crowley begins to set the scene, embellishing some of the details for this particular audience. 

*

The party was already in full swing when he arrived. There was no one around, at least no one in their right state of mind, to notice yet another flashy car. The host likely would have giggled with delight if he knew just how one of his hits was blaring from it’s speakers, what it had been when it was brought in to begin with.

It was a costume party, and the fashionably late Crowley had spared no detail with his ensemble. Red was a bit out of his comfort zone, but after he’d checked his appearance for about the hundredth time before leaving that night, he’d decided he looked quite good. 

The horns might’ve been a bit much. Then again, thinking of some of his hideous colleagues, not really. 

After lurking around a while, listening to happy chatter and overhearing compliments to the host about the food and drink, the demon groans. All that comes to mind, even after a few drinks himself, is how much Aziraphale would adore this or that little treat. How his cheeks would flush after several glasses of champagne. 

There was only one thing that’d get his mind off of his Angel. Well, not his. 

Crowley slithers away from the crowd with a hiss. After a while alternatively pitying himself and wondering just what would be the best way to even the score in a competition the Angel probably didn’t even know they were having, he comes across an unlikely sight. 

There he is, alone, changing his makeup. Freddie Mercury, the legend himself, just sitting there in the third getup of the evening. The musician pauses ever so briefly, studying the reflection behind him in the mirror. Most people would have startled, but he just seems intrigued, maybe a bit amused.

“Lovely costume. Could do without the sunglasses though.” Freddie goes back to lining his eyes, still watching. Crowley takes off the glasses with a flourish. The host smiles. “That’s much better. Are you here for me then?”

“In fact I am.” Just run with it, the serpent thinks. Knowing enough about the man, if he proves what he really is to him, Freddie might just be impressed.

“You’re the demon set aside for me?” Freddie asks but still there’s little fear in his eyes, or even the kind of acceptance Crowley imagines the damned might have once they know they’re headed to hell. Probably. Collecting souls wasn’t his scene and he never had a terrible opinion of the place or the company to be had down there. “Are you meant to take me tonight?”

“Well...no-” He sputters. Damn it all, maybe he’d had a bit too much. Just what the hell had he been planning to do when he got this man alone anyway? 

“Want me to sign something then?” Freddie winks, turning around finally and gesturing to a seat nearby. 

“Actually yes.” The demon replies. Freddie giggles. “You’re my favorite.”

“Thank you. That’s a high compliment.” 

“Umm...thank you. Some wouldn’t say so.” What the hell was he doing, why was his mind wandering back *there* again? Goddamn that golden haired distraction. There was a lovely man in front of him, in fact, his favorite *person* by far, and still Aziraphale was on his mind. 

“Oh. I know that look. Man troubles?” In spite of himself, the demon nods. Freddie moves forward. Crowley doesn’t quite know what to do when the musician embraces him, other than to wrap an arm around the man. He can practically feel a heaviness in his heart, in the little sigh when the hug is returned. “You aren’t alone.” 

Freddie points to the piano, a bin next to it half full of crumpled notes. “Maybe I can help?” 

“Wonderful. You can tell me all about him. Maybe I can help too.”

They move to the piano. Freddie plays softly, waits for Crowley to begin. “Well, really it’s me, I suppose- I’m the problem.”

“Oh dear, there’s a lesson there I believe. Certainly not a healthy state of mind.” The demon agrees. Freddie offers to start with his latest relationship woes. 

“Doesn’t seem like that’s your fault. Sounds like a bastard.” The singer nods. “Not like mine at all. He’s perfect. Literally. He’s...don’t laugh…he’s an Angel.”

“Oh my. Your problems are much bigger than mine.” Crowley isn’t sure, and would love to torment a few souls that made this sweet man cry, but he carries on. Freddie still plays quietly, humming a lyric or two when Crowley pauses. Hours pass, and somehow he’s told this human an entire history of moments with Aziraphale. All the things he *hates* that he adores about the Angel, all the aggravating little habits that he *loves* to hate. “I wish I could help more, but I think I know how you might be able to get his attention.” 

It’s not a bad idea, and part of Crowley can’t wait to show the Angel the photo he took with his idol, especially after Freddie writes a vaguely suggestive note on it before they say goodnight. 

*

“A night I’ll never forget. Love, FM.” Aziraphale reads, arching an eyebrow. “So, you spent an evening with…”

“Freddie Mercury.”

“I might not know of him if you didn’t go on so much about him.” The Angel says rather flippantly, setting down his drink and returning the photo. There’s a strange look in his eyes the demon has never seen before. “I’m quite free, at the moment. Is anyone expecting you to report downstairs any time soon?”

“No. Why?” Crowley sputters. Aziraphale lays a hand over his.


End file.
